


Capriccio

by Oldladyalmighty



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Music, Musician Harry, My First Fanfic, One Shot, Songwriter Harry, University Student Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4725893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldladyalmighty/pseuds/Oldladyalmighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis knows he’s a bit of a music snob. He teases his friends when they listen to the mindless, processed drivel that populates the radio airwaves and they waive him off as pretentious and judgy.<br/>But Louis’ feeling a little stripped bare because his absolute secret shame is that he sometimes locks the door, closes all the blinds and dances in his pants to the feel-good, pop-y offerings of one Harry Styles. </p><p>Or the one where Louis goes to class wondering what he's doing with his life and leaves with Harry Styles</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capriccio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabuloushazza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabuloushazza/gifts).



> For the prompt: Harry is a singer/songwriter, Louis is a huge fan of his (with fluff) from @fabuloushazza
> 
> This is my very first ever fic and I took it on as a very short-notice pinch-hitter, so I hope it's what you were looking for @fabuloushazza! I always thought I'd stay on the Beta-ing side of things, but this was a lot of fun, so thanks for giving me the excuse I needed to finally jump in.
> 
> Thanks to @ellaO3 and @bourgeoix for some great hand-holding, beta-ing and general awesomeness.  
> I'm sort of obsessive about grammar, so if you see a mistake, please (kindly) let me know so I can fix it!
> 
> Title is a term that means "quick, improvisational, spirited piece of music"
> 
> This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything related to One Direction or its members, or X-factor. It's merely for fun.

Louis loves music. He loves crafting the perfect lyrics, composing the ideal melody and watching the whole thing come together. He loves the process. But even more than that, he loves seeing how music affects people. 

He’s self-aware enough to admit that he gets an ego boost when he gets to see people react to his own music. But that’s not why he does it. He’d be writing lyrics and composing songs whether he was in university for it or not - it’s a bit of a compulsion to put pen to paper, really, and he can’t imagine a time when the process of writing and crafting a song don’t bring him peace in a way that nothing else does. 

It’s a bit naive, maybe, to think that he can make a career out of this. He knows that it’s incredibly difficult to break into song-writing, but just like in the rest of his life, he tries to live without regrets. He tries to own his decisions and know that he made them for a reason. Sometimes things turn out differently than he’d hoped, but he tries to learn from those things and move on. He was YOLO-ing long before the kids these days knew what it was. He’s a hipster about YOLO.

Maybe in a few years he’ll look back on his decision to go to the University of West London for music composition and shake his head. Maybe he’ll lament his own naïveté as he pays off his student loans while working a job in no way related to his chosen field. 

But at the moment, Louis can’t find it in himself to worry about that. He doesn’t think he’ll ever regret the way that he feels when finds the perfect note to match a perfect lyric. He’s watched a lot of people in his life end up in unfulfilling jobs where they’re miserable for a very long portion of their life. And maybe that’s where he’ll end up, too. But he has to give this a shot, first. 

Because there’s nothing like the feeling he gets when publishes a new video and gets to see people respond to his music. 

It’s a weird state Louis lives in with regards to music. 

Even as he builds a small following for his videos, he’s still just a big music nerd. He ties the most important moments in his life to songs and uses music to express things he’d never actually be able to say. He’s the same as every other kid out there who finds comfort in their earbuds. He knows what it means to find a song that always makes him happy or speaks to him on a level that nothing else had before. 

But now he’s got fans. And those fans sometimes tell him how important his music and lyrics are to them. Once every couple of weeks, he puts new material into the world and those people say he makes a difference in their lives. That’s a responsibility Louis accepts and doesn’t take lightly. He’s both a producer and consumer in this market and it’s a difficult and intriguing balance for him. 

Louis used to just write music for himself. There was never a conscious decision to become a composer or songwriter. He doesn’t remember the first time he wrote a song. Sorting out his thoughts and feelings through music, with or without lyrics, has always been how he makes decisions or works through problems. His mom says that he’s been singing, whether it was early metered speech or rhythmic chanting of his words, almost from the beginning. 

So Louis’ mom enrolled him in piano lessons and violin lessons and young Louis was very, very into classical music. He loved the history and how impressive and important it was that we were listening to these songs hundreds of years after they were created. The weight and impact of these old compositions resonated with him. 

As he grew, Louis found himself branching into other kinds of music. That’s not to say that he still didn’t study for exams with Mozart or Bach lilting in the background - though he doesn’t admit that to just anyone - but he also found the frenetic jazz of the 20s and the smooth harmonies of Motown. He was moved by the soul of gospel and blues music and would sometimes flail around his room to Big Band. But even as teenager, he never found himself attracted to the pop music of the time. As he hit high school, he found himself connecting to the singer/songwriters that seemed to be writing about his life. It wasn’t quite the pop dance or rap music his friends were listening to, but suddenly, instead of Chopin floating from the music room piano, it was The Fray. 

College is hard enough and Louis knew that his sexual preference was already going to make his way less than smooth. He didn’t fancy adding “orchestra nerd” to the list of strikes against himself, so he channeled his love of music in other ways. His compositions became less sweeping movements and more sultry ballads, but the classical influence was always there.

It was music that he buried himself in when his mom and the only dad he’d ever known got divorced. And it was his piano that helped him work through his confusion as a teenager when he realized all his friends were checking out girls’ breasts and he was checking out guys’ pecs. 

So Louis is in his final year of uni and while he’s content with his life choices, he’s a little unsure about what comes next. He’s got a small following online and occasionally he’ll sign up for open mic nights at pubs around town, but he’s not sure how he goes from there to making a living as a songwriter. Especially a snobby songwriter who’s not really interested in top 40 and wants to add violin and piano to most of what he writes.

Those are the sort of heavy thoughts that weigh on Louis’ mind as he trudges across campus. He’s so deep in thought when he walks into his upper-level songwriting class that he doesn’t even notice that his professor is not alone at the front of the classroom.

It’s not until he’s shaking off the cobwebs of his brooding inner turmoil that he looks up and is stuck so dumb that he almost trips down the stairs. 

Alongside his professor is pop star Harry Styles.

In a bit of a stunned panic, Louis takes his seat when Professor Stone clears his throat and asks the class to settle down. 

“Good morning class. We’ve got a busy and exciting class today, so let’s quiet down and get started. You’ll recognize the man next to me, I’d imagine. While you know Harry Styles as an X-Factor contestant and pop singer, I know him as the boy who took piano and violin lessons from me every summer growing up. I’ve had some of Harry’s compositions on my fridge for more than a decade now. As always when it comes to music, don’t judge a book by its cover - or maybe, more aptly, don’t judge a pop star by his shiny PR packaging.”

Louis is barely processing what his professor is saying as he mentally tries to unravel what’s going on. He knew they were having a guest speaker, but he’d have never guessed it would be Harry freakin’ Styles.

Louis knows he’s a bit of a music snob. He teases his friends when they listen to the mindless, processed drivel that populates the radio airwaves and they waive him off as pretentious and judgy. 

But Louis’ feeling a little stripped bare because his absolute secret shame is that he sometimes locks the door, closes all the blinds and dances in his pants to the feel-good, pop-y offerings of one Harry Styles. 

Listen, sometimes Louis turns all the overhead lights off, plugs in his fairy lights and goes into a deep brood over some Neutral Milk Hotel like any good emo kid. But if he might also take his car out into the country, roll down all the windows and scream out the lyrics to Harry’s latest hit, “No Control,” no one needs to know. 

And if the boy’s green eyes, long legs and dimples helped Louis get through some lonely nights, no one needs to know that either. Louis does not have a crush on a pop star. He does not. He appreciates a lanky boy regardless of curls and dimples and career. It could be anyone that occupy Louis’ dirtier thoughts, really.

But how was Louis supposed to resist when the guy sings such catchy songs, looks like he does and somehow seems to effortlessly exist in the music world while being out of the closet? It’s a devastating combination for Louis, who hopes his path can be half as easy. 

It’s a cruel industry. But Harry emerged on the scene already open and out and despite the backlash Louis knows he’s had to have received, Harry has found a modicum of success. Maybe not the success he’d have found without being out, but - and maybe Louis’ projecting a bit here - it doesn’t seem like Harry was looking to be a teeny-bopper heartthrob, anyway. 

So basically, it’s very complicated for Louis that Harry Styles is stood there just a few feet away. He and Harry Styles have a love/hate relationship in which Louis loves everything about the pop star except how much he really, really hates that he does. 

And yet, it feels like someone must know about his secret shame and have purposely put him in this situation. He covertly looks around for his friends or a video camera, like he’s about to be surprised by a tv show. It’s narcissistic, he knows, but what other explanation could there be for a pop star to be hanging out at an advance songwriting class in West London with Louis’ not particularly popular or well-known professor?

Louis needs an explanation. And some air. And some whisky. Because here’s his nemesis, standing awkwardly at the front of classroom with a sheepish grin at Professor Stone’s introduction, but looking a lot like Louis’ fantasies and it’s a bit much, if he’s being honest. 

“Harry’s home for a bit after the end of his last tour. He’s working on signing a new contract and once that’s set, he will be working on his new album - I’ll let him talk about that if he wants. As he’s stationed in London for a bit, I thought I’d ask him to come speak to you all about his progression from pre-teen piano protégé to worldwide pop star. I'll let him get to it,” said Professor Stone. 

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he says with a little half-wave and the class giggles a little. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m stealing some time with you all today. I’m still not entirely sure I have anything useful to tell you, but I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to come be on campus, since I missed that my first time around. So thank you, Professor Stone, for inviting me. Hopefully your students don’t hate me - and you - by the time class is over.”

So Harry spends almost the entire class period talking. He talks about singing and dancing around the house at a young age and his mom putting him in lessons with Professor Stone to try and channel some of that energy. The story about dancing is capped with a wobbly pirouette and a sheepish half-curtsy when a few students clap.

He talks of writing poems and putting them to music and spending long hours at the piano while other kids played in the street. 

“I’ve always been clumsy and accident-prone, so I wasn’t much interested in footie with the neighborhood kids,” Harry says. “I never feel more elegant and put together as I do when I’m playing the piano.”

He talks about backing away from the classical stuff as he got to school and how he always felt a little guilty about that. How he might secretly feel like he let the music and their composers down. The composers were like real people who populated his life for so long - his only friends, sometimes - and he walked away and he wonders if he disappointed them. 

“I know he was deaf, but I still feel like Beethoven _knows_ how mainstream the songs I sing are, even if he can’t hear them. And I sometimes feel a bit like I’m betraying him every time I have something chart on the Top 40,” Harry says, with a self-depreciating shake of his head.

He tells the class about trying out for X-Factor on a whim - how he and some friends did it for a laugh and how it was never supposed to be more than a weekend of fun he and his friends would reminisce about for years to come. How it was supposed to be a really great “what did you do on your summer vacation” story for when classes resumed. 

“Things happen for a reason, but sometimes I think about 16-year-old Harry, who had no idea what he was getting himself into when he went to that audition. Would I have made a different decision if I knew even a little bit of what I know now?” Harry ponders, looking a bit like he almost forgot he was in a room full of people.

“Oh well, it can’t be changed now. No use living with regret or worry,” he says, shrugging it off.

He glosses over the intervening years, telling them he doesn’t want to bore them with what he assumes most of them know, the rest of his path from reality show darling to top 40 mainstay.

“And if you don’t know it, Google will give you every possible version,” he says with a wry twist of his lips.

Louis notices how Harry ducks his head and sort of mumbles his way through the pop star part. How the charisma and personality that mark “Pop Star” Harry Styles haven’t really been evident for the first thirty or so minutes of the class. And how his signature long, curly hair can work as a curtain to hide behind when Harry wants to put a little distance between himself and the audience. 

But then Harry starts talking about how much he misses the classics and he sweeps his hair back and to the side and he’s engaged again. He talks about how his fingers will itch to pick up a violin. How he still writes songs he knows he’d never be able to sing with his current contract and persona, but that he doesn’t feel like he can physically stop. He talks about the compulsion to compose and write and play. 

And other than the whole “internationally famous pop star” part in the middle, Louis feels like Harry could be telling Louis’ own story. The words are achingly familiar and the joy that has begun to radiate from Harry’s face is unmistakable. 

Harry winds up by telling them, in very vague words, about how he hopes to get back to his classical and song-writing roots and that his new contract is with a new label that supports his vision. 

“Ok, but that’s enough about me. I came here to meet some of my fellow music nerds and talk shop. Now that you know a bit more about my background, I hope you’ll accept me as one of your own,” Harry says with a smile. “Does anyone have questions about writing or recording or anything, really?”

Some of Louis’ classmates raise their hands and the discussion meanders all over the place until the class period ends with Harry admitting his favorite composer is Tchaikovsky, but that he wishes he could have heard Beethoven play in person. 

And it’s like Harry has put Louis in a trance. Sure, he had found the pop star attractive - he’s got eyes, thank you very much - and he’d been a bit in awe of how he handled himself as an out man in the industry, but Louis never expected to really respect him. Louis was charmed and enamored and not a little bit confused. He’d been unable to pull his eyes away from Harry the entire time he spoke and though the singer had been presenting to the class - meaning they were all watching him - Louis knew he’d been staring and felt a bit like he’d been caught every time Harry’s eyes stopped on him.

Louis’ not sure what makes him do it, but as other students start forward to shake Harry’s hand or ask for an autograph after class, he just sort of stands near the edge of the group and waits. He feels a bit like he was drawn to the front of the room and ended up there without much conscious thought on the matter. He watches Harry hug everyone like they’re long-lost friends and genuinely look like he’s thrilled to be there talking to someone about the movement they just composed. 

As the last student edges away from Harry, he looks up and makes eye contact with Louis.

Louis has this theory that there are two types of people in the world - the ones that always have music playing in their head and the ones that never do. 

Louis’ in that first group. Sometimes he gets a crappy pop song stuck in his head when it’s playing over the loudspeakers at Tesco and sometimes a word or phrase in a conversation triggers his memory and a song starts playing. Other times, he feels like he’s in the middle of his own movie - there’s a silly simple little melody that accompanies the dog skipping down the sidewalk in front of him or the sweeping crescendo he felt more than heard in his head the first time he had sex. 

As he and Harry stare at each other, it’s like a very dramatic movie scene where everything else sort of blurs out around the edges and the violin music starts to build and maybe a tympani starts to echo his heartbeat. 

It all fades out as Harry blinks and stretches out his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

Louis tries to subtly shake his head, as if that will make everything clearer, but thinks he probably failed the subtle part when the corners of Harry’s mouth curl up and his dimple just barely appears. 

“Louis.”

Harry rocks on his heels a little and Louis realizes he should probably say something. 

“Would you like to get a tea with me? Is that weird? It’s just that you’re you and you’re nothing like I expected you to be and if you remove the whole famous pop star part of your story, it was very familiar to me…”

Louis trails off. He has no idea where that invitation came from - it certainly wasn’t premeditated. But Harry Styles is even more gorgeous up close than Louis could ever have comprehended and he’d just been wondering how to make this into a career and Harry Styles (maybe he should stop referring to him by his full name) made it seem more possible and no regrets, right?

“Yeah, I’d like that,” says Harry. “But do you mind if we move off-campus? I’m not sure we’d get much privacy here. I can drive us.”

Louis doesn’t know why Harry says yes, but he decides not to push his own luck by asking questions. He’s sort of dying to know if Harry feels the same pull that Louis does - the sort of inevitability of what’s happening and what’s yet to occur.

It should be awkward, the walk to the car and the ensuing silence on the short drive, but Louis doesn’t feel the need to fill it like he normally would. It’s comfortable, just the two of them sharing space. There’s some idle chit-chat as Harry asks Louis about school and how he likes Professor Stone, but there are also moments where they’re both silent, content in the warmth of the sun shining through the windshield and wrapped in the soothing jazz coming out of the car speakers. 

Harry takes them to a small cafe on the other side of Walpole Park from the uni. It’s just off a busy street and they’re the only ones there when they walk in. 

Louis wrinkles his nose when Harry orders a fruity tea - it has no caffeine and Louis isn’t sure what’s the point if not to get a burst of energy, but he keeps that to himself as they sit down at a small table away from the big picture window. 

“I’m sorry if it was weird to just ask you out without having said anything else to you,” says Louis. 

“If it was weird, I wouldn’t have said yes, mate,” replies Harry. 

“Well good - not being scared off by my blunt nature bodes well for this friendship,” says Louis.

“Are we going to be friends?” Harry asks. Before Louis can say anything, Harry goes on. “‘S okay, I liked it. Most people are too intimidated by me to do something like that. I was intrigued.”

“Intimidated? Someone has a big impression of themselves,” Louis teases.

“Oh, so you’re not a fan?” asks Harry. 

“I try to avoid the Top 40 stations,” Louis says as he picks up his teacup and smirks at Harry behind it. 

“So you’re a music snob, then?” says Harry. 

Louis scowls a bit and raises an eyebrow at him. “So what if I am?”

“I bet you dinner that you have at least two of my songs loaded on your phone right now,” Harry says confidently. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms with a smug look on his face. 

“Oh pop star, you didn’t need to make a fake bet to ask me out to dinner,” Louis says as he slides his phone on the table and opens up the file with Harry’s music in it. 

Harry has an incredibly expressive face and Louis hopes that what he’s reading on it right now is a bit shock and a lot impressed. He looks like he’s not sure how to respond, so Louis takes pity on him.

“You ever seen Love Actually?” Louis asks.

“Been reading teen magazines again, Louis? Did you just ask me if I’d seen the movie I repeatedly tell reporters is my favorite?” Harry says with a sort of condescending smirk on his lips. 

“Right, like you get magazines with pictures of pretty boys for the articles,” Louis says archly. There’s a charged moment of silence that follows as they hold eye contact, but Louis goes on.

“You know the scene where Hugh Grant dances around Number 10 with music blaring?”

Harry nods.

“Well it’s possible, if you were to subtract the tie and trousers, that I’ve reenacted a similar scene to ‘Happily,’” Louis says, naming one of Harry's early hits, as a blush starts to rise on his cheeks. “But if you tell anyone that, I will make your life miserable,” he adds with a not-exactly menacing glare. 

Harry’s eyes start to sparkle as he holds in the laughter. And if some of that sparkle comes from Harry imaging Louis running around his flat a la Tom Cruise in Risky Business, that’s ok, too. 

“So you’re a classical music nerd in hipster clothing?” Louis asks, trying to change the subject. 

Harry glances down at Louis’ own skinny-jean-clad thigh sticking out from under the table, but doesn’t take the bait. 

“Yeah, I’ve been taking lessons from Anthony - uh, Professor Stone - since I was young. He’s even helped me get the basics of cello down recently.”

“Just how many instruments do you play now, pop star?” asks Louis. 

“Um, piano, violin, guitar and a bit of cello. Oh, and I’m great with the triangle,” Harry adds with a smirk. 

And damn if Louis doesn’t feel a little bump in his heart rate at that. Harry is somehow boyish and sexy all in one look and Louis thinks it’s unfair, really. How is he supposed to concentrate and think and just exist in the face of this much charm. 

“I think we were meant to meet,” says Louis. 

Harry raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything as he sips his tea. 

“I’m usually a better songwriter than to resort to such cliche things as fate,” says Louis. “But just before class I was having a small crisis about what to do next and how I can find a career. Then you come in and describe your musical upbringing in a way that’s remarkably similar to mine and add on that you’ve signed with a label to make music that includes your classical influences and maybe now I have a little more faith that there’s room for me in the industry and I won't have to compromise everything about myself to find it.” 

So Louis asks Harry about his new contract and Harry shares a bit more about how he’d like to move away from “pop star Harry Styles” and find his niche. 

Louis tells Harry about how he’d like to find a way to make classical music and popular music meld. He tells him about how he moved away from orchestra in college to make himself more cool, but that he completely understood when Harry had said he feels guilty about it. 

“It’s like Wagner is staring down at me disapprovingly,” Louis laments while Harry giggles.

They talk about how “Tonight, Tonight” was maybe the Smashing Pumpkins most popular song, how The Beatles managed it with “I am the Walrus” and “Eleanor Rigby” and even The Cure and Guns ‘N Roses used strings. Louis admits that he often re-imagines songs using orchestral set ups and that a lot of his YouTube channel is devoted to those arrangements. 

“Regina Spektor has made a career out of it,” Louis says. “But so many artists that mix the two write for themselves. I worry there isn’t a place for me to sell these songs to someone else.”

“Do you want to sing?” Harry asks. 

“I’m not bothered either way,” says Louis, shrugging. “I don’t have dreams of the spotlight or hundreds of thousands of screaming fans. I’m not doing this to be famous. But if getting my songs heard or seen means getting up to sing them, I’ll do it.”

“I never thought I’d be a pop star, you know?” Harry says, starting to sound a little pensive. “I just really, really love music. I love getting lost in a song. I love channeling feelings and emotions into notes and lyrics. But teenage Harry never wanted a stadium tour. I think sometimes I’ve let younger me down.”

Louis tilts his head, letting Harry know he’s listening, but doesn’t interrupt. 

“I can’t lie to you and say that you’ll never have to compromise yourself,” says Harry says with a sigh. “I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways. I’ve just gotten to be openly myself, but I can’t tell you how many times a management executive or label rep tried to convince me to hide my sexuality. They wanted me to say I was bi so that I could be seen with women. They wanted me to downplay everything - never mention it, blacklist it from interviews - the works. Once they created a complicated spreadsheet in which they calculated how much my being gay was costing - they figured out, monetarily, how much more I - and them - could be making if I’d just allow them to say lots of little girls had a chance to be Mrs. Harry Styles.”

“From the very beginning, it was a lot more about paychecks than it was about music. But I was young and swept up in how I was going to make a change in the industry. Before I knew it, they’d created a persona and signed writers for my first album and it was like a speeding train I couldn’t stop or get off of.”

Louis’ brows knit together and his lip has started to curl, but he lets Harry keep talking. 

“I don’t want to make it sound like I’m ungrateful or even very unhappy. I’m not sure why I’m sharing any of this at all. I suppose it’s a little deep for a first date, but you talk with so much passion about heading into the industry and I want you to be prepared,” says Harry. 

“Part of me just wants to get out. Find something else to do with my life. But then I think that maybe I was paying my dues the past few years so that I can be able to put out an album I’m proud of. And that’s a totally shitty way to have to think about it, but if living the past couple of years has gotten me here, having tea with you and on the verge of making an album I’m proud of, I’m not going to turn down the things that are starting to look like rewards.”

The blush returns to Louis’ cheeks at the implication and he hopes the smile on his face conveys how much he feels like he’s actually the one that won a prize today.

The boys continue to talk about music and the industry over refills on their tea. They share bits of themselves in among the banter. It’s impossible for either of them to talk about music without it getting personal - music is too integral to what makes them who they are. 

As Harry tells a story about getting walked in on by his mom one of the first times he’d wanked, Louis thinks about how instantly comfortable he’s felt with Harry and he thinks - he hopes - Harry feels the same. No topics have been off limits. There’s been nothing unsure or awkward at any point in the conversation. He usually only feels this sort of calm rightness when he’s writing music, but instead of being surprised or concerned, Louis is just very, very content.

As the shadows creep across the tile floor, so do the boys’ feet - first just barely touching at the toes, then moving closer until their ankles are slotting together as seamlessly as everything else about the two boys has today. Their knees bump when they laugh and it send a shiver of awareness up each of their spines every time. 

Eventually, the tea shop lets them know it’s time to close and Harry grabs Louis’ hand as they stumble out the door, giggling about how long they were there and apologizing to the owner. He doesn’t let go, but curls his fingers around and holds tight as they stand there looking at each other. 

They spend a full minute goofily grinning at each other, surrounded by the noises of the neighborhood, before Louis speaks up. 

“So, I have this song I’m working on that I’ve only laid violin over so far. It could really use a cello. Did you want to come back to campus and help me work on it?”

The boys head to the studio and in two days they have the song Harry wants to be the first single off his new album. In his next meeting with his new label, he plays it for the producer and they all agree. 

###

A year later, Louis is listed as a member of Harry’s studio band, on piano and violin, and has writing credits on every song for Harry’s new album. 

It’s album release day and the boys are in their shared flat, getting ready for the party put on by the label. Louis thought he was being cheeky when he put the album on their surround sound, but he’s frozen in his place as an unfamiliar song starts up shortly after what he thought was the last song ended. 

Louis listens for the first time to Harry sing verses about finally finding his wings in eyes the color of the sky, sailing home on blue, blue seas and being grounded by seeing the earth reflected in “his eyes.” 

“It’s called ‘Earth in Your Eyes,’” Harry whispers from just behind him.

And Louis just has to soak this all in. He takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back to lean on Harry’s chest. Where he’d usually have a soundtrack in his head, Harry has graciously provided one.

Louis has a moment where he is reminded of the day that he and Harry met. When he was blindsided by the pop star that he had a love/hate relationship with. It’s a little different these days - with a lot more love - but Louis hates that Harry pulled this off without him knowing 

“You know I’m going to find a way to top you writing me a secret song, right?” Louis says as he turns to pin Harry with a not-very-convincing scowl.

“Yes dear, I know,” says Harry, as he leans down to plant a light kiss on Louis’ lips just as the violin strings fade out.


End file.
